Under Starry Nights
by Serendipithy
Summary: Everyday, I visited their place of eternal rest, resulting in my first encounter with a boy drinking Ponta. I decided from then on that maybe relaxing was better with another person. RyoSaku. Semi-AU. Dedicated to PynkPlayar!


**A/N: **This was actually my first attempt to write RyoSaku fanfiction, but a plot bunny (Hat of Innocence) popped up and I couldn't resist writing it out first. Besides, I think this one is going to be longer. XD Inspiration goes to PynkPlayar (one of the main reasons why I have dedicated this to her :D)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Don't feel like finding the name of the Japanese dude who does. :D I do however, own the plot. And I like my plots— so no stealing.

**Under Starry Nights**

_Dedicated to my friend, __**PynkPlayar**__! Hopefully this is "gold"-like enough for you (and sorry for the AU-ness! D:)_

It was a habit that I carried into my teenage years.

At night, I would slip out of the house and go through a narrow path at the edge of my house, and arrive at an open field by a river.

The first time I discovered I could do this was when I was eight. My grandmother loved to sleep as soon as we finished dinner and the dishes were cleaned. The first night I wanted to leave, she saw me leaving the house. She told me that as long as I stayed within the vicinity of the property, going out at night would be fine.

We lived in the safest neighborhood in the area after all: it was a neighborhood for the elderly and retired. I'm pretty sure no one would try to kidnap me.

So anyway, when I arrived at my favorite place— the field on the riverside— I would always head first to my favorite spot: my parents' graves.

I was raised by my grandmother since I was five, and I'm proud to admit it. In my opinion, she has been as loving and caring as real parents would have been. My parents had died from a car accident; isn't that such a typical way to die? I mean, it happens to so many people each year: some _stupid_ person decides that they need to get drunk and start driving— something that we all know is illegal.

The drunkard crashed into my parents' car. Luckily, I wasn't there— I had been visiting my grandmother (the one who was currently my guardian.) My parents died that night, but the drunkards didn't; he only sustained minor injuries. Life's unfair like that, but it could've been a lot worse. At least there was no revenge. No purposefully committed bloodshed. It was all accidental, albeit stupid of the man. I think the man has been justly punished in jail.

Thing is, I'm perfectly happy living with my grandmother (even if others don't think I should be— I don't care what others think.)

But that's an entirely different story; one that involves things I would rather not say.

At the spot next to the graves and right on the riverside, I would usually just lie down and talk to myself (and to my parents next to me.) It was a peaceful way to spend half the night away, especially since I usually stayed until 11pm.

Some days I could talk the whole time I was out, discussing my day, my life, and my soon-to-be future. Other days I wouldn't have anything to talk about. On those nights, I would look up at the stars above the field, a view that wasn't possible under the glaring streetlights of the town.

It would always be my alone spot. The one spot I could just think to myself and keep my worries for later. I considered it my 'thinking' spot where I could think alone, and feel more unperturbed.

This was my grandmother's property after all.

* * *

My grandmother had just fallen asleep at 7, a normal time for her since our dinners were usually slightly early anyway.

I didn't have much homework so I finished that in almost no time at all.

I grabbed a coat— I had heard the weather was going to be chilly—, put on some shoes, and made my way out as stealthily as possible. By now it was eight o'clock.

The night was refreshing as always. The crickets were chirping, fireflies dotted the night, and I could still hear the occasional car pass by on the road. I breathed in and gaily headed toward the narrow path at the end of the backyard.

Our backyard was small. Not townhouse sized small, but it wasn't very impressive. The only good thing about our backyard was the path leading to the field that was also ours, though we never considered it part of our 'backyard.' It was too special— too sacred; it held a special meaning that we tried to cover up from visitors and guests. Maybe we kept it secret because my parents were buried there— I'll probably never really know why.

It didn't take me very long to arrive at my favorite spot by the riverside, but I was shocked to find that _someone else was already there_, at my favorite spot. I didn't think anyone would come here at this time, or at all for that matter.

Heading towards the direction of the person, I noticed that there was a white cap covering his face, and that his hands were interlaced on top of his stomach.

If I hadn't known any better (good thing I did), I would've thought he was dead— it was the perfect posture, especially with the white cap on his face. He didn't seem to move either.

Moving closer, I bent down to remove the white cap from his face, only to have a hand reach out to grab my wrist. I almost shrieked in surprise.

The boy slowly released my wrist from his grasp, and sat up.

Under the moonlight, I could see he had interesting features. His hair was mix between the midnight sky and a teal, and although he looked scrawny for a boy my age, he had a small build.

But what captivated me the most were his eyes. They were cat-like, and contained a mixture of green and yellow, which was unique around these parts. I came to the conclusion that he had just moved here.

"Hi." I sat down next to him, and turned up to look at the sky. "Are you new around these parts?"

He turned and looked at me, seemingly inspecting me. Turning back to staring up at the sky like me, he replied, "Hey. Yeah, I'm new. I just moved here a week ago."

"Oh, okay." Somehow, there wasn't any need for words. It felt like we both came to the understanding that we were both here for the same reason: to think. I wasn't going to talk to my parents tonight anyway.

Minutes were passed in a comfortable silence. The boy spoke up and broke the short silence.

"Are those your parents' graves over there?" He motioned with his hands to the graves to my right.

I merely nodded.

"I thought so." The conversation broke off again as we just stared at the twinkling stars.

I wondered why he didn't offer an piteous words, but was grateful nevertheless. I had too many people console me already. And the sad thing was, I don't need consoling; I'm perfectly happy at this point in my life.

This time I decided to initiate a conversation.

"So… How did you find this place?"

He shrugged. "I needed a place to get away from my dad— he snores way too loudly. I'll probably go grab some earplugs when I decide to go back home."

I giggled. I decided to ask the question that had been nagging me for quite some time. "You do know that this is private property right?"

He just looked at me. "No I didn't know that, but seeing as though you know, this must be land your family owns. I don't think I'll get arrested if you haven't shooed me away by now."

And for the first time that night, he broke into a semi-smile. It was more like a smirk, but it was close enough.

I spent the next few hours with him looking and pointing out constellations in the night sky. We chatted about our lives, our families, and everything in between. In those few hours, I felt more free and unrestricted than I had been for a long, long time.

It was after we departed at half past midnight that I discovered that, of all things, we had forgotten to introduce ourselves to each other.

* * *

I groaned as I made my way down the stairs. I felt sleep deprived since I spent the next hour after I returned just pondering the strange happiness I felt. It was unusual for me to feel so relaxed.

Sluggishly, I made my way down the stairs and got ready for school. Before I had even finished my breakfast, the doorbell rang.

'That's strange,' I thought. 'We usually don't have anyone visiting our house unless I invited them.'

My grandmother seemed to expect it though because she swiftly went to answer the door. I almost choked on the milk I was chugging down.

It was him again. As soon as he spotted me and my attempt to stop choking, he smirked.

I found out in the next five minutes that his father was a good friend of my grandmother's, and that I would be his chaperone for his first day of school. After such introductions, he outstretched his hand, willing me to shake it.

He cleared his throat and introduced himself. "Hello my name is Echizen Ryoma."

I smiled and shook my hand with his. "Hi. I'm Ryuzaki Sakuno."

An accidental meeting with him, and a simple introduction was all it took to realize two things.

Maybe relaxing was better with another person (especially him.)

And that maybe this was the start to a beautiful friendship.

* * *

**Related:** I hope you didn't expect mushy-ness or kissing. I don't like writing that type of thing too much. I prefer Ryoma and Sakuno to have a relationship in between friendship and love. It seems more fitting for them.

REVIEW! :D I have been inspired to write a sequel to this, and I would like some feedback on what you think of this story so far! ;)

**EDIT 10.04.09**: Yes, I edited. No I didn't change a single thing in the story, and No, I didn't do this so I could get reviews (like other people sometimes do--- athough reviews would be nice xDDD) I saw that I wrote "right" instead of "write" and I was like O.O;; Yeah. OCD me. :P


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